


you care too little and i care too much

by fuwaesthetic



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series)
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, and this is the life he chose for better or for worse, shameless shameless shameless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-08
Updated: 2013-08-08
Packaged: 2017-12-22 19:52:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/917383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuwaesthetic/pseuds/fuwaesthetic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1. to turn your back on someone is to trust them not to stab it.<br/>2. never offer to wash your on-again off-again rival's hair unless you don't mind accidentally getting a blowjob.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you care too little and i care too much

”Your pants fall off too easily,” he finds himself scolding between tracing insults on his rival’s back. Silver stifles a grunt, knuckles turning white on the dresser in front of him. It’s probably the nicest sound Ethan’s ever heard. No, scratch that, Silver’s gasp when he slips his fingers beneath his waistband is. It turns into a snarl when Ethan inches lower and he backs his hand out completely. He presses it to the small of his back instead. “You need more meat on your bones.”

"It’s none of your— concern," Silver rasps. Ethan kisses his shoulders and sucks on the skin in the crook of his neck. He feels Silver spasm and he sucks harder. "S— Stop that!"

He stops. Silver quakes in front of him, and Ethan’s pretty sure he’s angry. It doesn’t stop him from feeling harder when Silver looks over his shoulder at him, cheeks as flushed as his ears. There’s just something really, really hot about the dark look he’s giving him and Ethan can’t stand looking at it unless he can jerk his hips at Silver’s — which won’t happen, so he leans his forehead against the skinny shoulders in front of him and breathes instead, the smell of sweat crinkling his nose. He slips his hand around Silver’s hip and feels him jerk again, but he doesn’t put his fingers in his underwear again. He just rocks him slightly, feeling the shivers subside and the tense muscles remain.

"Mom would seriously have a fit if she saw you naked," he sighs. It’s probably the unsexiest thing to say at the moment; Silver seems to agree with his thoughts, snorting at the statement. It’s the happiest sound he’s gotten from his usual stormy companion and Ethan laughs against the sweat-slicked skin. "I almost had a heart attack."

"I don’t really know why," he continues while Silver exercises his fingers against the dresser as Ethan exercises his right to dip his fingertips into Silver’s underwear and tease his goosepimpled skin, "but I get really worried about you."

"I can take care of myself —" Silver draws a breath delightfully sharp, and Ethan tilts his head up until his lips hit hickey-mottled skin. He bares his teeth and draws them gently up, to the crook of Silver’s neck, and keeps them there. Silver’s voice shakes, but is no less firm than before. "Are you a vampire or something? Stop that."

"I’m just trying something new," Ethan says after he props his chin against Silver’s neck. He turns head and sucks on the thin skin, feeling his heart skip when Silver utters a low, guttural moan at the attention. It’s his chance to move his hand down further and oh, god, he feels as hot as Typhlosion’s flames when he realizes Silver’s enjoying the moment as much as he’s enjoying giving him it. Ethan works his hand around his base and groans when Silver jerks into his hand. "Is this okay?"

“ _Now you’re_ asking permission?” It’s a wonder Ethan can hear him over the pound of blood in his ears. Or that Silver can talk with his breathing so ragged. Maybe both. Ethan whines when Silver moves back to escape his hand and ends up grinding against him. At least the reaction is worth it; Silver jumps - groans his name, beautifully, even though he’s pretty sure it’s supposed to be hissed and angry and not as turned on as it is - then keeps still between him and the dresser.

He looks over his shoulder again and blows hair out of the way so he can look Ethan in the eye, as close as their faces are now. “Get off.”

"I’m not on you," Ethan whispers. He thinks it might be louder, because Silver winces, but it feels like a whisper from how dry his throat is and how hard it is to force out any words. He feels so tight all over, like he’s going to explode — "Silver, can you turn around?"

"No."

"I want to see you—" he chokes on his words when he feels Silver’s elbow connect with his gut. He keeps his hand tight on Silver’s cock and laughs breathlessly when his nails scrape balls, softly, and Silver hisses. "I want to see you, please?"

* * *

Ethan is thin, too, but not the same way he is. Where Ethan is quiet muscle and lanky proportions - having yet to grow into his sudden growth spurt at the age of fifteen - Silver is bones and paper-thin excuses. He studies himself in the mirror - only Ethan would have a full-length in his bathroom, really - while the shower runs hot behind him. Every so often, he has to wipe steam off to see himself; it’s cloudy anyway, misted with heat, and the third time he wipes it away he finds Ethan peeking out at him from behind the pale pink shower curtain.

"Silver?" He sounds so concerned it’s almost sickening. Silver meets his reflection’s gaze without a word. Ethan frowns, then reaches out and grabs his shoulder. His hand is hot and wet and it makes his skin warm, warm, warm. Silver’s never felt it before, and the sensation spreads from the spot down the rest of his skin as quick as a plague. The flutter he gets from being drawn back and towards the shower, too, is a symptom he can’t shake.

"I’m coming," he grumbles at last. Ethan’s hand leaves his shoulder and he ducks into the shower after it, sucking in a sharp breath when the scalding water hits his bare skin.

"Feels good, doesn’t it?"

"It’s hot." He leans against the wall and purses his lips when he realizes it’s not much colder than being outside. He yanks the shower curtain closed, and Ethan reaches past him for some yellow-colored shampoo. "You wash your hair first?"

"Don’t you?" He shakes his head, and Ethan smoothly levels out some of it into his hand. "Start from the top and go to the bottom. That’s how my mom taught me. Yours didn’t?"

Silver takes the bottle from him without a response; Ethan seems to hesitate, then slaps the hand filled with shampoo onto Silver’s hair. He smiles when Silver scowls, startled, and pushes him down a little so he can massage the sweet-smelling stuff into his scalp.

"Sorry. I know family’s off limits. Let me wash your hair for you."

"You’re going to anyway," Silver sighs - because it feels nice, and he kneels so Ethan can have a better reach. It’s a little awkward - with a limp cock hanging in front of him, of course it would be - and he concentrates on the pounding water on the tile in front of him. Ethan’s washing is gentle and full of singing; he hums and whispers snatches of popular music from the radio, as if to make up for Silver’s insistent silence.

Two minutes into a catchy something or other, Silver gets tired of Ethan attempting to sound like a prepubescent teenage girl heartbroken after a break up and smirks when he hears Ethan’s voice crack unattractively in the middle of a word at Silver sliding him halfway in his mouth. He keeps on, a certain delight working its way through him as he feels Ethan get harder, especially when he presses his tongue flat against him and tightens his lips; he pulls away when he feels hips try to buck at him and works with his hands instead.

"Don’t stop," he breathes. Ethan’s hands stop gripping his hair painfully and start working the shampoo again, shaking and itching for a handle. Silver licks his lips and then licks the tip of his cock, snorting when Ethan’s legs lock and he hears whispers of songs half-forgotten turn into whimpers and high notes turn into high whines. "You’re one of those guys that gets extra sensitive, huh?"

Ethan presses his head on the shower wall and squeezes his eyes shut, which is _yes please shut up_ in stupid. Silver kisses his base with a delicacy he hears Ethan gasp at and thinks about how he’ll have to wash his hands as he works the warm wetness left by his mouth into Ethan’s skin with his left hand. The other keeps Ethan’s hands from tangling in his hair, freeing them when they start getting too tight.

After a healthy dosage of consideration, Silver pushes Ethan’s legs apart and teases his balls with the pop of his lips against them. Ethan moans something completely and totally unintelligible - he’s pretty sure it goes somewhere along the lines of _please do that again_ though, with luck - above him and Silver complies, popping his lips a second time. He drags his tongue up the side of Ethan's cock and slips his mouth around it again; he lets his hands handle what he can't throat, and he keeps at it until the hands in his hair pull at his roots. If Ethan's legs weren’t forced gently against the sides of the shower, he would’ve fallen — but he doesn’t, and Silver pulls his hands away to rinse them and his hair in the lukewarm water.

"Did you really have to," Ethan gasps between aching breaths. Silver pushes himself up carefully, the curve of his mouth curling up as he watches the cum work its way down the drain behind them.

"Yes." He draws the curtain away and steps out, stretching in the steamed bathroom. His blurred figure mocks him from misty glass, and he hurries to shuffle a towel around his waist. "You didn’t seem to mind. It was revenge for earlier."

Ethan pokes his head out after him, nose crinkling. “If that’s your idea of revenge, I don’t think I’d mind making you mad again.”


End file.
